How Not to Spend a Friday Night
by Bobo88
Summary: A fanfic about Taylor Lautner as a regular albeit dorky 17-year-old who is forced to babysit his rambunctious little sister Makena and her four friends who are all having a slumber party.
1. Chapter 1

**Characters**

Taylor Lautner (17): In this, Taylor Lautner is not an actor. He is an attractive, somewhat overly mature dork who, in spite of his muscular build, is not very athletic and possesses only superficial knowledge of sports. He isn't popular in school and doesn't seem to care. His pet peeves are excessive conformity, bullying and snobbery.

Makena Lautner (10): Taylor's little sister. Much in contrast to her brother, she loves to be the center of attention and goes out of her way to fit in at school. She loves tormenting Taylor.

Debbie and Dan Lautner: Taylor and Makena's parents. Play a minimal role in the story.

Michelle, Jennifer, Dawn and Kim (all aged 10): Makena's friends who are pretty much exactly like her.

Kelly (17): Girl that Taylor has a crush on. Minimal role.


	2. The Bad News

I get off the bus and begin walking toward my house. It is a cold, gray Friday afternoon in late February, a few weeks after my seventeenth birthday. Wait, before I go any further, allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Taylor Lautner and I'm a junior at Cedar Springs High School in Grand Rapids, Michigan. But be forewarned, I'm _not_ your typical seventeen-year-old. In fact, I don't like younger people very much, if at all. I find them to be annoying, materialistic, self-centered, lazy, the list goes on and on. I've never really been one to conform to fads or try to be one of the popular kids at school because I believe that having immense popularity and designer clothes are nothing compared to having a good heart and willingness to help others, and I believe I have both. I have had children bully me at school for no apparent reason ever since I can remember. As a result, my two closest friends are named Wellbutrin and Celexa. I'm muscular, but by no means athletic. In fact, I really don't even know how I got so muscular. I lifted weights for a few weeks about two years ago, but that was only because we stopped getting the Game Show Network and without that, I didn't know what else to do with myself. As soon as the cable company gave it back, however, weight training ended and I went back to watching episodes of Wheel of Fortune from 1994, but somehow, the muscles have remained. God I love me some vintage Wheel. I have bronze-colored skin which comes from my mother's French side of the family, brown eyes and jet black hair. People tell me how beautiful I am, but I just don't see it.

I arrive at my house and open the door.

"Oh, Taylor, you're home."

That's my mom, Debbie.

"Yeah, Mom," I chuckle. "Just like every weekday at this time."

"Listen, I want to talk to you about tonight," she said.

"What about tonight?" I ask as I sit down at the kitchen table.

"Well, your father and I are going out tonight, and you're…."

"Oh God!" I whine. "I have to watch Makena, don't I? I knew it! I should have when I opened that door and the smell of Jean Naté hit me right in the face that I was gonna be stuck with her for the night!"

Makena is my younger sister who's ten. She is a typical girly-girl who enjoys Zac Efron, Hannah Montana, shopping and being popular. In other words, she's the total opposite of me and I'd rather fall into a wheat thresher instead of babysitting her.

"Taylor, it'll just be for a few hours," she says. "Your father and I are going out to dinner with Ed and Joyce since we haven't seen them in so long. And I promised Makena she could have a sleepover this weekend with a few of her friends…"

"WHAT?!?" I flip out. "You and dad are leaving me in charge of a group of ten-year-old girls for the night?"

"Calm down," she explains. "Like I told you, it's just for a few hours."

Just then my dad, Dan walks in.

"I heard you screaming all the way upstairs," he laughed. "It won't be that bad, Taylor. We'll leave you money to get some pizza."

I remain silent, accepting the inevitable fact that, yes, my parents are going out and leaving me in charge of my rambunctious little sister and her equally annoying friends. So I sulk off to my room to pop a few Wellbutrins before Makena's crew arrives. I look over and see my collection of Wheel of Fortune episodes that I've taped over the years and/or have traded for over the internet. Most of them are from their original broadcasts and have the original commercials still intact. A few of the labels on the tapes catch my eye. "Carol Terrana's Reign of Terror: 12/3, 12/4 and 12/7/92" one of them reads. Another reads "Angela Thompson-Murphy: October 1993" while a third one boasts "Maria Mason picks up Pat: November 1993". Maybe it won't be such a bad night after all. While the girls are doing whatever it is that girls that age do at sleepovers, I'll be downstairs having a Wheel marathon. I grab a bunch of tapes and take them downstairs. Just as I'm nearing the bottom of the staircase, the doorbell rings. Oh no. Makena's bitch brigade is here. My mom opens the door to find Makena's friends, Michelle, Jennifer, Dawn and Kim and their respective moms: Penny, Brenda, Nellie and Leslie. Makena hauls ass into the room to greet her guests. The mothers leave and my dad says the words I've been dreading since my mom broke the bad news to me a little while ago:

"Okay, we're leaving," he announces. "Taylor's in charge. He'll order pizza for everybody. Don't stay up too late. Have fun!"

"Bye", Makena and her friends says in unison. They then turn to me after my parents have left, with mischievous looks on their faces. Uh-oh! There's gonna be trouble already and Mom and Dad haven't even pulled completely out of the driveway yet!

"Taylor, can you order some pizza now?" Jennifer asks in a sugary-sweet tone that's enough to give me diabetes. She, at least, is up to something already.

"Sure," I reply. It's wise not to anger her. She's probably already thinking of shaving my head or something after I've gone to sleep tonight and pissing her off now will almost surely provoke more hi-jinks at my expense, such as shaving my eyebrows or God forbid, an amateur circumcision. These girls are evil!

"What does everyone want on theirs?" I ask.

They talk it over and decide on one pizza with extra cheese and one with pepperoni. At least there's one thing we can agree on is how we like our pizzas. As I dial the number, I pray that I'm able to make it through this evening alive.

"Please God," I pray softly under my breath. "Give me the strength to keep from losing my temper on these sweet, gentle…Makena! Get your shoes off the sofa! You know better!….children and help me to maintain my….Kim, quit flicking those rubber bands from your braces at people! You'll blind somebody!…sanity. Amen."


	3. Chapter 3

"**Thank you for calling Domino's. This is Gina, how may I help you?" a girl who sounded about my age said in a bored tone.**

"**Yes, I'd like two large pizzas. One with pepperoni and the other with cheese and two two-liter bottles of Coke Zero for delivery please," I respond cheerfully, hoping that my perky demeanor would give her the hint that she's being rude. No such luck.**

"**Phone number and address," she snaps.**

"**555-4746 and the address is 245 Franklin Avenue," I reply in a slightly less cheerful voice.**

"**That's a large cheese pizza, a large pepperoni pizza and two Coke Zeroes?" she asked.**

"**Yes."**

"**That'll be twenty-four fifteen. Cash or charge?"**

"**Cash."**

"**It'll be about forty-five minutes," she sighed. And before I could even utter a sarcastic 'thank you', she hung up. Don't think I'm not going to say something to the delivery guy when he gets here! Still reeling from Gina's attitude, I put my tape marked "Wheel at the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco: November 2-6, 1992" (I'm very specific about how I label my tapes). Before Pat has even introduced the contestants, the girls enter the room carrying one of their stupid teen magazines.**

"**Taylor, would you mind answering a few questions from our magazine?" Makena asks.**

"**It's a relationship quiz for guys," explains Dawn.**

**I agree to this. Hell, at least it'll keep them occupied until the food gets here. I pause my tape.**

"**Question number one," Michelle reads. "What outfit do you think looks best on a girl?"**

**A. Nice fitting jeans and a cute T-shirt.**

**B. Expensive designer outfits that most girls only dream of wearing.**

**C. Whatever she chooses to wear is fine.**

**D. Her birthday suit.**

"**That's a very good question since I actually do take note of what girls wear," I say. "I like the T-shirt and jeans look and some of the prettiest girls at school are able to pull that look off very well. Now as for the designer clothes, I look to the popular girls. And if they're just trying to show off or impress each other, which they usually are, I'm not havin' none of that! Most guys my age would probably say that they prefer the girl to be naked, but that's just so completely ignorant. You can't get romantic with a girl when she has the flu or hypothermia from running around nude! So, I guess I choose C. Whatever she want to wear. As long as the reason she wants to wear it doesn't have anything to do with trying to one-up anybody else." **

**The questions continue until the doorbell rings. I get up to answer it while the girls tabulate my score. I open the door to find a pleasant-looking guy not much older than myself.**

"**Hello," I greet him in an syrupy enthusiastic voice as I take my food and give him his money and tip. "I'm Taylor Lautner. Earlier this evening, I called your facility to obtain sustenance and was assisted by a most unpleasant young lady named Gina. She was quite rude and acted as if she was granting me a huge favor by taking my order. I would very much appreciate it if you would let your manager know that I was not happy with Gina's tone."**

**See how professional and articulate I can be?**

"**Actually, Gina **_**is**_** the manager," the boy responds.**

"**Oh…in that case then, tell her that she has lost a valuable customer and that she's lucky that I'm babysitting tonight or I'd drive down the and pepper her unmercifully with obscenities. Have a nice night!"**

**I bring the pizzas and sodas in and call the girls to come get what they want. **

"**We just checked your score on the magazine test," Kim said as she poured herself some Coke. "And to the magazine, you're a cold fish when it comes to romance."**

"**So?" I say nonchalantly. "It's a make-believe test created by pathetic individuals who have nothing better to do than to sit on their asses and base their entire lives on movies and TV. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I'm going to go sit on **_**my**_** ass and watch the Wheel."**

**Apparently, that shut them up because I hear them going upstairs to Makena's room. Finally, some peace and quiet. Minutes later, however, they re-appear.**

"**Taylor?" Makena asks in a sing-songy voice. This usually means she wants a favor. **

"**What do you want?" I respond with annoyance. **

"**Will you take us to the bowling alley?" she asks.**

"**At this hour?" I question suspiciously.**

"**Taylor, it six-thirty," she tells me.**

"**Why do you feel the need to suddenly go bowling?" I ask.**

"**Well, there's this boy we like who…"**

"**No," I say firmly as I stand up to get myself some more pizza.**

"**Why?"**

"**You are ten years old! You're too young to go boy-chasing!"**

"**Call mom and ask her if you can take us!" she dares. Just to prove that my parents are going to say no, I pick up the phone and dial Mom's cell number.**

"**Hello?"**

"**Hi, Mom. It's me. Listen, Makena made me call you because she and her friends want me to take them to the bowling alley."**

"**That's fine," she replies. What the hell? Did I call the right number?**

"**But…"**

"**I know there's some boy she said she likes that goes down there every Friday night," Mom explains. "Trust me, she probably just wants to talk to him for a little while. Besides, the bowling alley is only about fifteen minutes away."**

"**Fine," I give in. "Love you, Mom. Bye.**

"**Bye, honey."**

**I look Makena and her friends, grinning from ear to ear knowing from my angry expression that I had misjudged Mom's response.**

"**Get you coats," I say to them with my teeth gritted. They all do so as I put the food away.**

"**It's times like this that I regret having gotten my driver's license," I say out loud to myself as I get out my keys. "Could this evening get any worse?"**


	4. Chapter 4

"We're going under one condition," I tell the girls firmly. "We're listening to one of _my_ CD's in the car."

"But Taylor!" Makena whines.

"No buts," I say. "I can't take any more High School Musical!"

"But we were gonna listen to Beyonce," Michelle explains.

"Well, you're in luck!" I laugh. "Because I'm listening to the Supremes and they were like the Destiny's Child of their generation!"

"But…"

"If you don't let me listen to the Supremes, I'll embarrass you all when we get the bowling alley by doing my impression poor ignorant Southern white trash!"

"Fine, listen to the Supremes," Makena relents. That white trash threat works like a charm every time.

We drive to the local Bowl-a-Rama, listening to the Supremes' singing "Back in My Arms Again". When we get there, I realize that this little "outing" to the bowling alley is going to be worse that I'd ever imagined! The place is full of children Makena's age! I didn't want to hang around kids her age when I _was_ her age!

"Look, Makena, there's Paul!" Dawn says as she points to a dark-haired boy in a jade green shirt that looks like one I got a few years ago at Wal-Mart.

"He's so hot!" Makena sighs. I know I didn't just hear what I thought I heard coming out of the mouth of a fifth grader!

"Excuse me?" I interrupt. "HOT?!? Young lady, you are ten-years-old! What the hell do you know about hot?!? At your age, the only think hot should mean is the opposite of cold! Boys should not even be connected to such a word at your age!"

"Lighten up, Taylor," Jennifer grumbles.

After I get our bowling shoes and balls, we choose a lane. Naturally, Makena and her friends select the lane right next to Paul and his friends.

"Oh, hello Paul! I didn't know you liked to bowl!" Makena gushes to her love interest in a transparent attempt to make our presence at the alley look like a chance encounter.

"Yeah," Paul responds politely. "My uncle Jerry owns the place, so we come here every Friday for half price."

"That is so cool!" Kim sighs.

"Taylor, can I speak to you alone for a minute?" Makena asks as she pulls me aside.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Um…I was thinking… while Paul and the girls and I are here bowling, could you, like, not be here?"

This can't possibly be happening, I tell myself.

"Let me get this straight," I say calmly, even though on the inside, I'm livid. "I brought the four of you here, paid for all this crap out of my own pocket and now you're making me leave?"

"You don't have to leave," she says. "Just go play in the arcade or go eat something at the food court."

"So you want me to pretend that I don't know you or the girls?"

"Yep."

"Fine. I'll go play skee-ball."

She gives me a hug and goes off to join her friends. You're probably thinking, 'Wow, Taylor! You handled that well!'. Well, screw that. Remember when I threatened to act like white trash in order to embarrass them if they got out of line?

I meant it! I'll give them a few minutes to relax and let their guard down before I introduce them to what I like to call "Taylor from the trailer park". This'll teach them to blow me off!


	5. Chapter 5

The kids have just gotten comfortable and their game has gotten underway. This is where I make my entrance as an uncouth redneck! I walk over to their alley and begin free-associating with them in a loud, reasonably authentic-sounding Southern drawl, using a plethora of country slang.

"Hey, how're y'all gals doin' tonight?" I blurt out. The girls look at me in shock while Paul looks slightly amused.

"Taylor?" Makena asks nervously, apparently forgetting the fact that we're pretending not to know each other.

"Now don't be actin' like y'all don't know your own flesh and blood brother," I laugh. "Who's your little gentleman friend? Oh, Lord, are y'all fixin' to be married? You could wear Ma's weddin' dress!"

"Taylor, this is Paul," Makena said flatly. "We're in the same class at school. And we can't get married 'cause we're on ten!"

"Ma was eight when she married Pa!" I told her. "Now let's play some bowlin'!"

"But we're in the middle of a game," Jennifer whined. Of all of Makena's friends, Jennifer whines and bitches the most. And I'm already in a bad mood, so her tone definitely isn't helping.

"I'm gon' tell ya what," I tell her. "Your little smart ass attitude ain't gon' get you nowhere with me, little girl! I have a good mind to go cut me a switch and give you a whoopin' the likes of which y'all has never saw before! I'll show ya how we handle kids like you down South!"

Paul looks like he's laughing to himself.

"You're a native of Michigan, just like us," Makena sighs.

"Let's not tussle," I finally say. "I'll just get me a bowlin' ball,"

I walk over to the shelves containing balls and select a pretty blue one. I walk over to the alley and try to put the ball down on the seat next me until it's my turn. But for some reason, the ball is still attached to my hand. Uh-oh.

"Taylor, are your fingers stuck in the holes?" Michelle asks with a giggle.

"No, I just…" I say as I try to pull the ball off my right hand. "I…"

They all give me a look of disgust, which tells me that they're not going to buy any excuse I give them about why I can't set the ball down. So I say the only thing I can say in a situation like this.

"DAMMIT TO HELL!" I scream, causing many other customers to look at me strangely.


	6. Chapter 6

_**I try desperately to free my fingers from the bowling ball while Makena and her friends gawk in amusement at my misfortune. My fingers feel like they're starting to swell as I continue slamming the ball against the chair hoping to loosen it up. **_

"_**What the hell's wrong with this damn ball?!?" I cry out in my Southern accent, subconsciously immersing myself into my redneck persona.**_

"_**Uh…your hand is stuck in it," Michelle says with a sarcastic giggle.**_

"_**I told y'all I'm not havin' no backtalk," I scold. **_

_**The slamming technique doesn't seem to be helping at all, so I sit on the floor and put the ball between my legs and try to forcibly pull my fingers out of the holes. It's a very painful procedure and I definitely don't recommend it if you value your digits. I mean, think about it. If you lose your thumb, middle and ring finger on your right hand, how are you going to be able to comfortably flip people off from the passenger seat of your mom's car when somebody cuts her off?**_

"_**You bastard! You good-for-nothing piece of shit!" I curse at the top of my lungs hoping that one of the many other customers will hear me and offer help. They don't.**_

"_**Okay, I have an idea," Paul says. "We'll all pull the ball and Taylor, you'll pull your hand out."**_

_**It sound dangerous, but I suppose it's worth a try. I nod in agreement as the girls and Paul grasp the ball and pull with all their might while I struggle to pull my hand free. It's so painful that my voice hits a falsetto note that would probably put Ella Fitzgerald to shame. Then something amazing happens; my right hand feels lighter. I look down and my fingers, in spite of being swollen, are free from the holes and still intact! I look up at Makena and her friends and they seem to be getting farther and farther away. Suddenly I realize that they aren't the ones who are moving, I am!**_

"_**SHIT!" I scream as I fly backwards into two other customers, causing all of us to tumble to the floor.**_

"_**I'm sorry," I apologize to the people without seeing their faces. When I see their faces, I realize that these are two of the absolute worst people I could ever have bumped into.**_

"_**Oh no," I say as I look at them. The night's about to get even worse.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Credit goes to What-About-Jacob for helping me with this chapter._

**Their names are Jeff Williams and Kevin Meyers. They're two of the biggest bullies at my school and they always latch onto me like John Goodman onto a bucket of extra-crispy fried chicken. I feel a panic attack coming on.**

"**Look who we have here, Kev," Jeff exclaims as he grabs me by my shirt collar and yanks me up from the floor to my feet.**

"**If it isn't Crybaby Lautner!" Kevin laughs wickedly as he slaps me on the back with all his might. "Imagine meeting you here!"**

"**Uh…yeah…imagine that," I stutter. "Well, I have to go now. Bye."**

"**Not so fast," Kevin says in a sly tone as he blocks my path. "Don't you want to spend some time your old pals Jeff and Kevin?"**

"**Don't hand me this old pal crap!" I snap. "Friends don't let friends push the heads of other friends down the commode! I never felt so violated and dirty in my life!"**

"**That was weeks ago," Jeff says as he wraps his muscular arm around my shoulders and guides me over to the arcade area. My heart continues to drop as the two of them back me into a corner behind one of the pinball machines.**

"**Give us your money!" Kevin whispers harshly through gritted teeth. I have to stall somehow while I think of a way out of this mess.**

"**Yeah, but…I…have no money," I stutter. Smooth, Taylor. Real freakin' smooth!**

"**Bullshit," Jeff growls. "You took those little brats bowling and you want us to believe you're fuckin' broke?!?"**

**I can't believe he just went there! Nobody calls my materialistic bitch of a little sister and her idiot friends brats but me! But they're both bigger than me. My muscles are just more for show and are pretty much useless, but theirs could easily break me in half like a twig. So I have to distract them with something else. Maybe some gossip from school might suffice.**

"**You know Patty Gordon, right?" I blurt out. "Well, I heard that the only reason she got that A in calculus is 'cause she went to bed with her teacher Mr. Klein. And I thought I heard Melanie Richards tell Jeremy Davis who told Nicole Miller who told Eric Jones who told that really, really light-skinned exchange student from Czechoslovakia with the name noboby can pronounce who I personally think might be borderline albino but I'm not sure, that Patty might be pregnant with Mr. Klein's baby. But then again, maybe you shouldn't listen to Melanie 'cause everyone knows she sniffs highlighter pens which makes her hallucinate!"**

"**Quit stalling, you bastard!" Kevin barks impatiently.**

"**And guess what else I heard!" I continue in the hopes that they'll get frustrated and just give up. "Remember a few weeks ago when Mrs. Harvey was late coming to class because she said she had car trouble? Well, I was walking past the teachers lounge the other day and heard somebody say that she was late because she was picked up for driving with a suspended license and her husband had to bail her out so she didn't have to share a cell with a big dykey man-woman nicknamed Fingers!"**

**The gossip doesn't seem to have worked, so I try a more traditional method. I try to run away. But before I get even a few inches away from them, I feel a foot hook around my ankle, causing me to tumble face-first to the linoleum floor. As I lift my head up, I feel a wet sensation under my nose. Not to mention the fact that it really, really, really hurts! I run my finger under my nostrils and look at it. Blood! Suddenly, I hear Makena.**

"**Freeze!" she shouts at Kevin and Jeff. "Leave my brother alone!"**

"**And what are you little kids gonna do if we don't!" Kevin retorts with a smirk.**

**Without warning, Makena and her crew begin hurling their nachos and popcorn at them, getting Jeff and Kevin's expensive outfits all dirty. After a few minutes of food fighting, the duo leaves. Makena and her friends walk over to check on me. But not before we have to explain the situation to the security guards. Finally, after what seems like forever, the kids lead me over to a table at the food court and give me napkins for my bloody nose.**

"**Taylor? Taylor Lautner?" I hear a female voice say.**

**I turn around and see a familiar face. Maybe this evening won't be such a disaster after all!**


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh, hi Kelly," I say with my nose pinched between my thumb and index finger with a napkin to stop the bleeding.

I can't freakin' believe it! It's Kelly Walters, the girl I've had a secret crush on since about second grade but who up until now, I didn't think even knew I existed. And she's not only talking to me and referring to me by name, but she's coming to sit at with me at my booth!

"What happened to your nose?" she asks with genuine sincerity, rather than the sarcasm with which the other pretty, popular girls at school commonly address me. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she liked me.

"I…um…had a little…altercation a few minutes ago with Kevin Meyers and Jeff Williams from our school," I reply, hoping to play it off as a joke.

"Oh my God!" she exclaims as she walks over to my side of the booth and gently pulls my hand away from my face to inspect the damage. "Well, it doesn't look like it's broken. My mom's a nurse so I'm kind of familiar with broken bones."

Her kindness makes me forget about trying to act cool and composed. I feel like I can actually be myself around Kelly.

"This isn't the first time I've been beaten up," I admit. Oh shit! Did I just say that?

"I know," she sighs. Double shit! Did _she_ just say that? What the hell's going on here?

"Remember a few weeks ago when you got jumped in the hallway at school when nobody was around and then, out of nowhere, that teacher came and pulled that kid off of you?" she asks.

"Uh…yeah," I respond hesitantly, having no idea what she's driving at.

She pushes a lock of her curly dark brown hair out of her face and looked me straight in the face with her beautiful, crystal blue eyes.

"Who do you think told the teacher you needed help?" she asks with a slight chuckle. I'm so shocked that I feel like I want to faint.

"That was you?" I ask incredulously.

"Yep," she says proudly.

She then does something incredible. She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. Not the type of hand squeeze like the one my mom told me to give her if I felt any pain when I had to get stitches in my hand when I was nine after I slipped on a patch of ice and sliced my knuckle against an icicle. It was the kind that you give a friend to comfort them or to let that person know that you want to be more that just friends.

"I really like you Taylor," she explains. "I always have. And I…."

She gets cut short by the sudden presence of three of the popular cheerleaders from school who apparently know her. They glare at Kelly. If looks could kill, everyone in that bowling alley and perhaps even in the 7-Eleven across the street from the bowling alley would be dead.

"Why are you with him?" one blonde, apparently the lead cheering bitch or whatever they call the cheerleader that the loudest and most annoying at pep rallies asks Kelly as she points at me.

I smell trouble! Well, technically I don't because my nose is too sore to actually sniff anything, but the point is that, for the second time this evening, the shit will hit the fan! Again, not literally. Sorry. I tend to babble when I'm nervous. My parents are always saying things to me like 'Taylor, calm down! Your mouth is going a mile a minute and no one can understand you!' Anyway, I'll shut up now.


End file.
